


Spin Cycle™

by bioloyg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Bottom Sam, Bucky breaks up an engagement, Caught in the Act, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Porn with minimal Plot, Public Sex, Sam and Bucky get physical in a laundromat after dark, idk how else to sell it my dudes, uhhhh idk what else to say this is something else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 00:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8599819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: Bucky has never been afraid to speak his mind. However, there is such a thing as "a time and a place," and he definitely doesn't have either of those things on his side when he breaks up an engagement. Sam's engagement to be specific. Cue the food fights, and love confessions.~Sam peels the noodle off his shirt and tosses it to the side with disdain, frowning. “Well this is ruined.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettylittlementirosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettylittlementirosa/gifts).



> So, this was originally a prompt I was going to fill for kinktober. However, October decided to be the BUSIEST month for me and I didn't get to it. But I got to it now! You can all blame @bisexualbcky for this because she's the one who sent in the prompt. I don't think this is exactly what she was expecting though, but here we are anyway!
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and don't be afraid to leave comments (only if you want)!!

“This is your fault,” Sam grumbles as he shoves his jacket into the washing machine. He mutters obscenities to himself as he takes his spaghetti stained shirt off. There’s still a piece of angel hair pasta stuck to it, actually.

Sam peels the noodle off his shirt and tosses it to the side with disdain, frowning. “Well this is ruined.”

He puts the shirt in the wash anyway just as Bucky appears across from him. The fluorescent lighting in this public laundromat is doing _wonders_ for the purple bruise growing right beneath his left eye. “How is this my fault?”

Sam jerkily unbuckles his belt before pushing his wine soaked pants down. He deftly removes his feet without getting his shoes caught. As he comes back up to toss his slacks in the machine he glares at Bucky. “ **You** are the one who dragged your happy ass to my engagement party. **_You_** are the one who thought that would be the perfect time to confess your love for me. **_YOU_** are the one who started a food fight that dissolved into a fist fight – which also happens to be the reason I’m washing my clothes in a laundromat instead of at **home**!”

Sam balances himself on the edge of the machine precariously as he removes his shoes and socks. Once the socks are in the wash he holds his hand out toward Bucky impatiently, waiting. Bucky grits his teeth and wordlessly removes the shirt from his back with one hand. As soon as it’s off he tosses it at Sam’s face, but Sam catches it before it hits and immediately whips it back at Bucky.

Bucky plucks it from the air. “ _Fine_. Maybe it is my fault.”

“Not maybe, it definitely is.”

“BUT,” Bucky says, studiously ignoring Sam’s interruption. “It’s your fault _too_.” He throws his shirt into the waiting washing machine, staring Sam down. The water inside rises and rises, just as the tension in the room grows and grows.

Sam’s eyebrows fall and he scoffs, “ **How**?”

As Bucky slaps the contents of his pockets on top of the nearest surface, he laughs. “What, did you suddenly forget that you threw water in Business Bob’s pretty little face?”

“Oh, fuck _you_. He called me a slut and accused me of cheating on him. All because of what _you_ said I might add. So again: This. Is. All. Your. Fault.” Sam shuts the washing machine, and the metallic thunk slices through the humid air in the otherwise empty laundromat.

Bucky picks up his jeans and tosses them on top of Sam’s closed washing machine, and then calmly walks around the row of washing machines separating them until he’s on Sam’s side. He never breaks eye contact with Sam. Not even as he opens the machine’s lid again to put his pants in. Just when the silence approaches near deafening heights, Bucky leans his hip against the cold metal of the machine, crosses his arms, and says, “I didn’t make you dump your fiancé in front of his family and friends. _You_ made that choice. Did I pick a bad time and place? Yeah, I sure as hell did, but don’t pin this all on me. You know damn well it takes two to tango.”

Sam sets his jaw and crosses his arms too, mirroring Bucky. The atmosphere is far too serious considering the fact that the two of them are standing in nothing but their boxer briefs. In a rundown laundromat at midnight no less. “You didn’t exactly give me a choice, James.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You make it sound like I put a gun to your head and said, ‘choose now or forever hold your peace.’”

“Pretty damn close,” Sam hisses. “You stood up in front of everyone we know and said you _loved_ me, and that you couldn’t sit quietly and pretend you were happy for me and Eric.” Sam closes his eyes and lets out a sharp breath. “And then you said you were leaving.”

“The _dinner_. I never said I was leaving forever; I said I couldn’t make some sappy toast because I hated Eric and loved you, and that I wasn’t gonna stay for the rest of the party.”

Sam lets out a frustrated noise. “What difference does it make? I knew if I let you leave I wasn’t gonna see you for months. I _know_ you.” He looks up at the ceiling and squeezes his eyes shut. “As soon as I stood up and said ‘ _wait_ ’ everything imploded. God, Eric was so pissed that I even considered your feelings at all.”

Bucky uncrosses his arms and rubs his hands over his face as he says, “An implosion would have been neater. It was definitely more like an _ex_ plosion.”

“Says the person who threw the first plate of spaghetti and caused the explosion.”

“Because Eric was yelling at you!” Bucky says, exasperated.

“ **Because you said you loved me in front of him!** ”

“ ** _I’m not going to apologize for saying I love you!_** ” Bucky yells, matching Sam’s aggravation. He backs down as soon as the words are out though, looking away.

It really is Bucky’s fault and he knows it. He knows he fucked up and he knows he was out of line, but hindsight is always 20/20. In that moment at dinner he was blinded by fear. Losing Sam wasn’t really an option, so he did something stupid and impulsive while he had the nerve. _Now or never_ , he had thought. If only he could explain all that to Sam – the person standing across from him, stunned into silence.

 “I’m sorry I ruined your night, and screwed up your living arrangements. I’m sorry I yelled, and I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, but saying I love you is the one thing I refuse to apologize for.” He looks at Sam then and lets out a defeated sigh. “I will _never_ be sorry for loving you. I’m only sorry I missed my chance.”

The washing machine whirs beside them, spinning the water out and away, and wobbling awkwardly as it does so. For a while that’s the only thing that can be heard.

Just as Bucky looks away again, Sam quietly says, “I never said you missed your chance.”

Bucky’s breath catches in his throat, but before he can respond Sam closes the space between them. “Do you _honestly_ think that I’d be here with you if that were the case? That I would have thrown my engagement ring halfway to nowhere and then left with _you_?”

Well when he puts it like _that_ …

“No,” Bucky replies.

Sam’s dark brown eyes fix Bucky to his spot, and all Bucky can think about is falling into the abyss at their center. Getting lost. Sam’s inward breath snaps Bucky out of his momentary stupor. “Do you really think I’d stay with Eric after the shit he pulled tonight?”

“I would hope not,” Bucky says with a nervous laugh. He’s got at least two inches on Sam in height and somehow he still feels smaller.

“Not a chance.” Sam brings a hand up to Bucky’s cheek and gently swipes his thumb over the bruise. Bucky’s eyes flutter closed and what little breath was left in his lungs is stolen. “Still can’t believe you punched him,” Sam finishes, reverent almost.

“He deserved it,” Bucky says, voice flat. He opens his eyes and places a hand over Sam’s, keeping it in place. It’s nice, having him close.

Sam lets out a dry laugh. “Thanks for defending my honor.”

Bucky squeezes Sam’s hand and turns it so that he can kiss the palm. “Always.”

When he looks back up he notices Sam’s eyes have gone soft around the edges, but there’s still something tense at their center. Vulnerability. This is big, what Sam did today. He broke an engagement, forfeited a nice cozy life with a white collar man, and a picket fence dream house. All because Bucky said the three magic words, “ _I love you_.”

Okay, not just because of that, but that _was_ a big part of it.

Never in a million years did Bucky expect this to be the outcome. That wasn’t even his intention going into the dinner. But the emotions he’d been pushing down as Sam talked about Eric and their life together had built up so much that they just kind of – exploded. Bucky couldn’t pretend to be happy about it anymore. As much as he wanted to support Sam (not so much Eric), he was hurting himself in the process. Granted, it’s his fault in the first place for not taking the leap earlier, but… who’d have ever thought Sam would choose _Bucky_?

Bucky sure as hell didn’t see that one coming.

As soon as the words came out of his mouth he braced himself for the inevitable, “ _I could never see you that way,_ ” and “ _I think you should leave_.” Instead, what Bucky got was a stupefied, “ _Really?_ ” Not the flustered _I can’t believe you_ kind, either. Sam looked rocked to his very core in that moment. Terrified. Like there was no possible way he was hearing things right. All because he felt the same way too, which meant he was presented with a very interesting decision at the worst possible time.

  1. He could stay with the man he grew to love, who could probably afford to give him the world and more.  
OR  
2\. He could go after someone who loved him more than anything in the universe, and would probably die for him.



In the moment, Bucky didn’t know that’s what was going through Sam’s head. Bucky thought the fear was because of the literal worst case scenario interruption, not because Sam was afraid to take the leap of faith with a completely different person than he originally intended to. But, Bucky can see that’s what it was now, up close, and he’d do anything to put Sam at ease.

So… He tugs Sam a little closer and kisses his wrist. Still, Sam seems hesitant. He holds up Sam’s forearm and kisses that too. Still, Sam looks wary, but less so than before. Bucky kisses multiple points, Sam’s neck, Sam’s cheek, waiting for Sam to back out, to change his mind and say “ _Stop_.”

Instead he hears, “Are you sure?”

No hesitation, Bucky returns with, “Absolutely. Are you?”

Sam falters for a split second, but Bucky can see the exact moment Sam says _fuck it_ and lets go.

When their lips meet it’s like taking a deep breath inward after being underwater for too long. Relief. That rushing feeling of euphoria that brings clarity to the fuzzy edges of your vision. But it’s silly, really, that their first kiss is inside a laundromat at midnight. And yet Bucky couldn’t care less.

He wraps his arms around Sam’s waist and pulls him in close before sighing through his nose. It’s so soft and sweet, the way Sam tastes and feels up against him. But soft and slow only lasts as long as your resolve will hold, and Bucky has wanted Sam for far too long to have any of that right now. Not with Sam’s fingers in his hair, holding, not with Sam’s tongue on his lips, teasing. Bucky feels like he’s being consumed by his desire from the inside out, his skin burning with the need to be closer to Sam, to get more of him.

 _All or nothing_ , Bucky thinks.

He brings his hands to either side of Sam’s face and licks into his mouth. Sam’s hands fall from their place on Bucky’s head and clutch at Bucky’s back instead, clawing, searching for a foothold. Fuck, Bucky really hopes Sam leaves marks. Anything for him to know that he’s not dreaming right now, that Sam is truly here with him.

It’s such an all-consuming feeling, kissing like this, that they almost forget where they are. Bucky is just about to pick Sam up when a shrill buzzing sound snaps them from their moment. He and Sam break apart instantly like kids caught in the school yard and laugh. “Probably for the best,” Sam says, raking his teeth over his bottom lip shortly after. He looks Bucky up and down and then says, “Wouldn’t want to start something we couldn’t finish.”

Bucky lets out a sharp breath, then nods wordlessly. He watches as Sam goes to sit at one of the benches off to the side, thinking the exact opposite. Bucky _definitely_ wants to start something, and he’s more than willing to finish it. The atmosphere is a little less than ideal though, and Sam deserves the best, so Bucky takes a deep breath and focuses on the task at hand. Unloading the washing machine.

As he transfers the clothes from the wash into the dryer, he tries to tamp down on the urge to drop everything and whisk Sam away, tries to will away this damn hard on. Given their surroundings at the moment, Bucky fully expected the lustful itch beneath his skin to subside. The “in public” aspect definitely should’ve quelled the desire, and yet here Bucky is, throwing pants into a dryer trying not to think about how much he wants to be inside Sam. Can’t stop thinking about the way Sam would sound beneath him, his taste, his smell.

Bucky shakes his head slightly, willing away the daydreams. This isn’t exactly how he pictured his night going - the standing in a laundromat half-naked part at least. The rest he’s thought about plenty. And still, when he turns around to face Sam it feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. He’s so effortlessly beautiful. His hair, his cheekbones, the way he smiles and lights up a whole room. It’s no wonder Bucky fell for him, because as beautiful as Sam _looks_ , his heart and soul are ten times as wonderful.

Sam catches Bucky staring and says, “What? Is there still spaghetti on me?” He looks up like he might be able to catch whatever might be on his head.

“No, it’s not that it’s just –”

“It’s just what?” Sam asks as he looks back down,

“You,” Bucky breathes out quietly. “It’s just you”

Sam’s mouth hangs open slightly for a moment before he catches himself. “Oh.”

For a while Bucky and Sam just sit together, half naked on the bench waiting for their clothes. Of all the weird things to happen to the two of them, somehow this doesn’t quite top the list. That would be surprising if their lives weren’t so odd. But they are, so sitting here beside Sam in nothing more than his polka dotted briefs is pretty… relaxed. Their hands are joined, Sam’s head is nestled up against Bucky’s right shoulder, and the hum of the dryer is almost soothing. Despite the circumstances that lead to this, and the trouble it undoubtedly poses for Sam, Bucky is happy with where he is right now. He’ll gladly help Sam fight through the mess that’s waiting for them outside the laundromat when the time comes. But for now they’re safe.

Which is why Bucky places a thumb under Sam’s chin and lifts his head until they can kiss. And that feeling of rightness, of security and happiness, is the reason why Sam so readily kisses Bucky back, it’s why he allows himself to be pulled into Bucky’s lap. The lack of clothing between them makes everything feel electric, and everyone of Bucky’s nerves sing in chorus as Sam’s hands brush over his skin. Somehow close isn’t close enough, so they grab at one another – Sam with his fingers tangled in Bucky’s hair again, and Bucky with his hands wedged beneath the fabric of Sam’s briefs.

Keeping with the natural rhythm of their movement, they rock against one another, and Bucky takes a sharp breath inward. He pulls away from Sam’s neck for a moment, a little out of breath, and says, “Are you sure this isn’t too fast?”

Sam’s flicks his tongue across his bottom lip, and Bucky can’t help but follow the movement, but Sam’s inward breath pulls him back to their conversation. “How long have you been in love with me?”

Bucky falters, confused. “I – four years. Why?”

Sam nods once and lets his fingers scrub against Bucky’s scalp. “Three and a half,” he says just before dipping forward to kiss Bucky once, hard. Bucky instinctively leans forward as Sam pulls back to say, “I think that’s plenty of time, how ‘bout you?”

“Too much,” Bucky agrees as he drags Sam in for another kiss. He’s met with a hum of approval and Sam’s tongue.

After that, what little inhibition Bucky had left is gone. Everything narrows down to them and only them. How Sam’s tongue feels against his, how he tastes. How Bucky can feel the way Sam hums as he holds him, and how warm his skin is despite being bare so long. All Bucky can see, feel, taste – all of it is just Sam. Bucky would give anything to have a bed to worship him on right now, but here will work. He’ll _make_ it work.

God, he hopes he makes Sam feel good.

Once they start rocking against each other again, any hesitation about doing this in public goes out the window. Bucky hooks his fingers in Sam’s briefs and tugs them down just enough to get his hand around Sam’s length. Sam’s breathing stutters, and his next breath inward sounds like a hiss. Bucky strokes Sam once, firm and attentive, and looks up into Sam’s eyes. He thinks he can get used to the way Sam is looking at him right now – the heavy lidded desire.

Part of Bucky want’s to drag Sam into a bruising kiss and never let go, but he’d much rather hear Sam moan, which is why he moves his hands to Sam’s hips and pushes him onto the bench. Sam looks lost, and a little put out, up until Bucky spreads Sam’s legs and kneels between them. The linoleum floor is unforgiving, and Bucky will regret this later, but he couldn’t care less right now. Instead he takes one look at Sam, puts his hair up in a messy bun, and then takes Sam into his mouth.

This time, instead of a choked off breath, Bucky earns himself a small noise of surprise that morphs into a pleased hum towards the end. He drags his hands up Sam’s thighs and pulls the briefs the rest of the way down, slowly. He sets a comfortable pace for Sam and himself as he moves his hands back up Sam’s legs. Bucky kneads his fingers into the muscles of Sam’s thighs, massaging, and whorls his tongue around Sam’s head before sinking down again.

Sam moans, but it’s reserved, and Bucky wants to fix that immediately. He takes one hand and strokes Sam every time he pulls up to massage the head of Sam’s cock with his tongue. When Sam bites his lip to stifle his next moan, Bucky tightens his grip ever so slightly and hums, hoping the vibration will travel.

“ _Fuck_. Bucky – if you don’t slow down I’m gonna –”

Bucky pulls off of Sam with a pop and licks his lips. “You’ll what?” He wraps his hand around Sam’s length and strokes, once, twice, never breaking eye contact with Sam. “Come for me?”

Sam squeezes his eyes shut and his next breath shudders out of him. “ _Bucky_ ,” he pants, and somehow he manages to make it sound like a warning.

Bucky drags his hand up Sam’s dick once more, and thumbs at the slit before bringing his tongue to it. He hears Sam’s toes crack and smiles – about as much as anyone can with a mouthful of dick – and sinks down. When Sam brings his hands to the back of Bucky’s head, Bucky responds by hooking Sam’s legs over his shoulders.

The pace he sets this time is unrelenting. He _wants_ Sam to come. No, he wants to be the reason Sam comes, and he wants to make it worthwhile. With the way Sam’s fingers are digging into Bucky’s skin right now, he has a feeling the latter part isn’t really an issue.

The former is though. Especially when a woman in half bloodied scrubs comes into the laundromat and drops her plastic basket of clothes in horror. Bucky at least has the decency to pull off of Sam and block her view while Sam grabs for his boxers. There’s a very, very tense moment of silence where the woman looks everywhere _but_ them, but Bucky breaks it by saying, “So – uh, are you a nurse?”

He can hear Sam’s muffled groan behind him, but it’s drowned out by the woman’s answering, “Yeah, I – I’m. Yeah… I’m just gonna,” she hooks a thumb over her shoulder and leaves. Bucky counts to 3 and then looks down when she comes back in to get the clothes she dropped.

Once Bucky is sure she’s gone he turns back around and looks at Sam, who’s still half hard. Bucky raises his eyebrows. “That does it for you, huh?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “No, actually, it doesn’t.”

Bucky pushes his hand up Sam’s thigh, smiling when Sam shivers slightly. “And what about this?”

Sam shoots him a look, but there’s absolutely no heat in it whatsoever. “Someone just walked in on us and you really wanna pick this back up?”

Bucky slides off the bench and pushes Sam’s legs apart. “You don’t?”

“I want a bed.”

“I’ll get you to a bed when our clothes are dry.” He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Sam’s underwear again and says, “Until then, I’d like to finish what I started.”

Sam doesn’t stop him.

~

Bucky wakes up with his head in Sam’s lap, and Sam’s fingers running through his hair. Sam looks down at him and puts the coffee that was in his other hand down. “Morning sleeping beauty.”

“Good morning,” Bucky says, his voice rough. His eyes flutter closed again when Sam scrubs his fingers up against Bucky’s scalp. “We’re staying in bed all day, right?”

Sam snorts. “You wish. _We_ have got some shit to sort out.”

Bucky turns his face down and mumbles into the sheets separating him from Sam’s skin. “What’s to sort out?”

“My living arrangements,” Sam says, pinching Bucky’s right arm. “I need to go get my shit out of my old apartment… Which is now Eric’s.”

Bucky scrunches his eyebrows and looks up. “Why does he get to keep it?”

“It’s in his name.”

“Fuck him.”

“I _was_. And then you came along and broke up our engagement.”

Bucky bites at Sam’s thigh through the sheets. “I didn’t break up your engagement. You’re the one who decided you wanted to follow my stupid ass.” He pushes himself up and then drags Sam into his lap. He puts his hands on either side of Sam’s face and says, “I’ll help you get your things out of the apartment today, and I’ll kick Eric’s ass if he even _thinks_ about starting something with you, okay?”

Sam shakes his head and sighs. “You’re something else Barnes.”

Bucky kisses Sam’s cheek. “You seem to like me.”

Sam tilts his head to the side and looks Bucky up and down. “I guess.”

A smile breaks across Bucky’s face. “Hey.”

“What?”

Bucky kisses Sam, just a light peck. “Thank you.”

Sam’s brow furrows. “For?”

“Giving this a chance.” Bucky swallows the lump in his throat and drags his thumb across Sam’s cheek. “I know I fucked up, but I’m glad I did if it means you’re here.”

Sam takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again he says, “All you had to do was ask.” He looks at Bucky for a moment and then leans forward to kiss the bruise just beneath his eye. “Dumbass.”

Bucky looks down and laughs. “Yeah, yeah.” He looks back up at Sam and smiles. “I love you, Sam.”

Sam rests his forehead against Bucky’s. “I love you too, James.”

 

 

“Even if you _did_ ruin my marriage before it began.”

“ _Oh my **god**_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow me on tumblr at my [main](http://bioloyg.tumblr.com) or at my [MCU side blog](http://zamnwilson.tumblr.com)!
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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